GAMES PEOPLE PLAY
by Kuiakaituhi
Summary: The Afghan vets have a special ceremony before leaving on tour to Africa .Football matches are important as is a star player. Captain James makes a confession. Molly announces startling plans for the future. Hangovers happen.
1. Chapter 1

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

 _Once more, a sports event has been the catalyst for a new story. Actually, two events and not the usual one associated with us Kiwis. No, it's football, not Rugby and it's my favourite team and Molly's, this week leaving Upton Park in style. And last week that amazing 5000-1 Premier League championship to Leicester._

 _There are a couple of people in the first series whose stories are sketchy and I wonder where they are and what has been happening to them. I have a fascination with the less obvious, so am going looking. Molly will do the looking, actually, whilst Charles is in Africa. I hear that the Army has made it much easier for soldiers on tour to touch base with their families through social media, so I expect Molly and Charles to be communicating quite a lot._

 _And I did read somewhere that the Army has had concerns about officers not getting a break from active duty, sometimes for six months or more. They have been worried about some personnel who seem burned out, so are making every effort to arrange a few days leave for officers, mid tour. Let's hope this works for our two soldiers._

Fingers was keeping his promise to use his precious Skype time to get in touch with Molly, face to face from Africa, after the game finished. Not his game, but hers, at Boleyn Field. That ground was special to her and to all of the Afghan lads in Two Section. As he waited for the very unreliable Internet connection to perhaps connect him with Molls, he reflected on the way she was always able to come up with something to surprise the lads, even to shock them sometimes. The last month had been no different, though her latest stunt was not in the same league as holding a little girl's nerve whilst an explosive vest was removed. Or putting her fist in a huge wound to stop a squaddie from bleeding out, then being winched up into a chopper with the distinct possibility that insurgent snipers might pick them off. Not many people could take over a whole Premier League ground, however. Molly had managed it and he had been there to see her do it, just last month.

But, back to the actual football, both games. That's why he had promised to talk to her today. He was already feeling pretty good about football, seeing as he was a Leicester man from way back. Let's get real, who would ever have imagined the Leicester boys holding that trophy high, first time ever in their history? The only trouble for him was that he hadn't been able to go to that last game, even though Leicester weren't playing, just depending on the right result in a game between two other teams. And they'd fucking done it, if he'd been in Britain he would have even kissed a few Chelsea fans when Eden Hazard scored the leveller and Spurs were shut out. It was fucking amazing and he wished he had been there. Hell, he might even have gone AWOL to go on the booze with the Leicester boys after the presentation ceremony!

So probably just as well he was here in the heat, craziness and confusion of the refugee camp where Premier League football was so far out of sight that it might have been happening on the moon. Even here though, he was reminded of the power of a round ball and a patch of open ground to kick it around in to get kids talking, even if the languages were different and the ball was so overused it was falling to bits.

He'd already decided to ask Molls to buy some cheap footballs and a pump to send out as a care package when the next mailbag was sent out from home. That's if he could find her, she seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.

He'd really enjoyed getting out with the kids and Dangles and the new guys in Two Section and kicking around. It was a good way to start some conversations, nothing too deep and meaningful, mostly bullshit about drinking, girls and their prowess at football, all the usual crap. But they were beginning to watch one another at work, noting who backed up the others when there was extra to be done, who could take the piss and equally laugh at himself when dished up some of his own medicine. And who might most easily be trusted when they were in the dangerous situations they were bound to experience on tour.

The old hands, the Afghan boys watched the skilful way the Bossman wove the new team together. Lots of full uniform and full bergen running in the morning, lots of humour, plenty of team building, but there was something not quite right with the Boss. Fingers knew what it was, all the Afghan lads did because they felt the same way, a bit lost, almost as if she might come around the corner of a hut or turn up on parade and give them all a proper rinsing and a huge smile, just like the old days.

Fingers had known there was something going on between her and the Boss pretty early on in the piece in the Afghan FOB and had worried about them. He could sense the sexual tension amp up after Molly came back from leave. Hell, wasn't the same thing happening between him and Jackie? Trouble with the other two was he was an officer, Molly was enlisted and that was a huge no-no in the Army, to cross that relationship boundary would spell the end of both their careers.

So he hadn't been surprised, really, when Captain James had called all the Afghan vets together to a meeting not long after Two Section started re-forming with the new lads, getting ready for the new deployment in Africa. But where was Molly? She hadn't shown yet and none of them had been able to make contact with her for weeks. Fingers and Brains had both tried, left phone messages, sent emails, but nothing. Given all the drama that had happened at the end of the Afghan tour, perhaps she was taking some time out from them all, doing some other mysterious woman stuff, who knows? They missed her, though, and were beginning to get antsy about her absence. This whole Africa thing was a new ball bag, they needed her to be clued up about conditions out there and what they would need to do to look after their health in a whole new climate amongst thousands of people who probably had all kinds of diseases. Hell, they all just missed her. So, anyhow, James started.

"You're probably wondering where Molly is." Straight away the lads could tell he was uncomfortable, not at all the Bossman of old. He was hesitant and he was not looking directly at any of them. And was he fucking blushing? What the fuck? Fingers began putting two and two together, quietly, and waited without comment. The others looked pretty confused, but definitely very interested in what was to come.

"The fact is…well, I don't know how to say this. You've all probably been wondering why she hasn't been in touch with you. She…we…well, we decided to keep things quiet till we'd talked to Beck…"

"Seen Beck about what, Sir?" Mansfield Mike scratched his head, which was already sunburned despite the zinc cream his mother sent him in every care package. And they were still in Britain. God knew how his white blond head was going to cope with the harsh African sun.

"We were on leave and we were worried about her." Fingers thought again, as he often had in Afghanistan, that Mansfield was very slow on the uptake.

"I thought she didn't like us any more," added Nude Nut.

"No, no!" The captain could sense the anxiety in all the boys. He felt guilty, and he knew Molly did too, they'd talked about it. She really had found it hard to keep silent for all those months while he was rehabbing. She'd spent a lot of time with her family and quite a bit with his, getting to know his Mum and Dad, both of whom thought he was exceptionally lucky to have found such a treasure. They had needed to be quite secretive, just meeting at his home and they had not been out in public apart from one lunch date at Bailbrook House not long after he came out of hospital.

"We needed to talk to Beck because Molly and I are together. We are going to be married at the end of this tour. If I'm really honest, I had feelings for her right from the time she smart mouthed me on the tarmac at Brize Norton before we even left for Afghan. And I found out she was feeling the same."

Looking around the lads, Fingers could see the penny dropping, there were shakes of the head, much nodding and anticipation of the next bit of information. James wiped sweat from his forehead and bit his lower lip, a mannerism Fingers had noticed in the past when the Bossman was not sure about the next step.

"Beck said he had heard rumours. I told him that nothing had come of it on tour, but once we got home, we wanted to be together. Obviously, Molly and I can't work together on tour. So that's why she's not here. And why I am and missing her more than I thought possible. I guess some of you miss her as well." From their reactions, he could see he was right.

"I spoke with her this morning and promised her I'd tell you all today. Fact is, she's missing you all, why the fuck I don't know!" He grinned, obviously relieved to have it out in the open. As he strolled away from them, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Give her a call. She's really keen to talk to you all."

So over the next couple of days, they reconnected with Molly. Fingers had phoned her that night and had set up a night out for all of the Afghan squaddies on their last leave before flying out to Africa. Molly was insistent that they meet her in one of the pubs near her home and near the home of her beloved West Ham United.

"The place is going off!" she explained. "It's getting close to our last game at the Boleyn Field and I want you guys to see it before they tear the place down. I've spent lots of hours there, specially since I got back with me MC. They invite me to all the games 'cos they call me their 'ero and I can take me dad. He thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Hobnobbing it with all the managers, even talking with the players, getting pissed free in the members' bar. What more can a good Cockney girl do for her old man, eh Fingers?" They'd both burst out laughing and fixed a date.

Molly was insistent that they all meet at the Crown pub late on a Friday afternoon and not to be late and to dress tidy. On the morning of their date, he checked in with her

"Jeez, Molly, we're going out to tell lies and get pissed, not to visit the Queen. Do you want us to wear suits? Hey, you haven't asked your new old man to come, have you? I'm still getting used to you being with a posh boy, let alone the one who's our officer who's going to be giving us shit in Africa for the next six months."

"Nah, you tosser," she laughed. "This is squaddies only. I'm meeting up with him tomorrow afternoon for the rest of the weekend once I get shut of you lot after we all get totally pissed tonight. He told me he doesn't want to know anything about anything that any of us do or say tonight, even if some of you end up in the cells, seein' as he's your commanding officer and he doesn't want you or him to start off on the wrong foot on tour.

He did say he'd nurse me through any hangover I might acquire but only on Saturday afternoon. Says he has a lot of personal business with me for the rest of the weekend. Wonder what he means?"

Fingers could almost hear her smirking down the phone line. Being a singularly red-blooded male he was pretty sure he knew exactly why Captain James would want his former medic fully recovered by Saturday evening.

"Too much information, Molls. I'm going to find it hard enough on tour looking at the Bossman and realise you two are bonking without bursting out laughing."

"You wait, you tosser," she came back at him. "Remind me to kill you when I see you. Just some business, we've got something to do before we get on the turps tonight. If you like, bring some serious drinking gear and you can get changed at me Mum and Dad's place before we really hit the pub."

They met at four pm. Molly was proud to note that "her" boys had taken her seriously and were all smartly turned out, tidy casual. They looked great and she was surprised to feel so emotional as she hugged each in turn, She really had missed them, badly.

"I'm really sorry about not tellin' you about Charles and me…"she started.

"Charles? Charles?" They hooped and hollered, falling about themselves laughing. "OOH, I say, Charles!" Dangles did a fair imitation of a poncy nob, and the rest of them hooted with laughter. "Is he really called Charles?"

"I'll kill you all!" she threatened, "I've already given him a proper rinsing about his name and he was quite hurt, at first. I've gotten used to it now. I really do love him, boys," she added quietly, "and I know he loves me. It was so hard keeping it from you, I really just wanted to shout it out, but we couldn't. Please just be happy for me… and for him, even if he does work your arses off in Africa."

"We are glad, Molls, now we know what happened. We just worried that we had done something to turn you off us and that you didn't want to be our mate any more."

"We need to get going, there are some people waiting for us," she hurried them along the cracked concrete pathway until they were, suddenly outside the famous gates to Upston Park, home of the Boleyn Field and of the West Ham United Rugby Club. Waiting for them was a young man with a very familiar face.

"This is Winston Reid." Molly introduced them to the young Maori man who captained the Premier League team." I've become friends with Winston and his wife since I've been coming here and got introduced to the boys in the team. He's here to help us 'cos this weekend is a special one in New Zealand where he comes from."

"Kia ora, guys." The men shook hands and Molly began to explain the purpose of their visit, inviting Winston to add to the conversation at any time.

"This ground is going out of existence next month after over 100 years. They're having a final game here against Man U and I've been invited with me Dad. You guys all know what happened here for us and I wanted us all to say a proper goodbye to Smurf before they demolish the place."

"This is ANZAC weekend in New Zealand and Australia," Winston added. "It's an incredibly special and sacred time for us when we remember all our war dead and wounded. ANZAC started at Gallipoli, but we use this time to remember them all. Going back to the Boer War and up to Afghanistan where we've had losses, too. This is the one time of the year that I wish I was back in Aotearoa. So Molly invited me to share this time with you today." He smiled at her, "Thank you so much for letting me be part of this."

The boys had looked around the historic stadium. There was nobody in sight, except for what looked like a soldier in ceremonial uniform, standing at the entrance to the players' tunnel. He looked like a very old soldier, and the thin late afternoon winter sunshine glinted off a row of medals on his chest.

"That's old Jack," explained Molly. "He's a life member of the club. He were a soldier for years and years, in the Army Music Corps. The bosses of the club told everyone else to piss off while we're here cos they respect what happened to our mate here."

"Let's keep it simple," she suggested, leading them to the place in front of the goal post where Smurf had fallen and where she had screamed for help and where she had held him while the massive brain bleed drained his life away. As they neared the spot, Nude Nut on one side and Brains on the other took her by the hands, both squeezing gently to tell her they knew how hard this must be for her. Hell, it was hard for all of them, but she had **been** here when it happened.

They waited, in silence, the breeze slight and the air beginning to gather up the early spring chill. Then, quietly, each of them spoke about and spoke to their friend, their loud and bossy, generous hearted, sometimes foolish, always heart on sleeve, Welsh wanker, as Molly had named him. They poured out their grief and shock, realising that Molly had arranged this memorial, small though it was, so they did not need to carry their sadness on this next mission to Africa.

Molly spoke last, murmuring so that no-one else could hear her private words. Winston, who had not spoken but had stood with his head bowed, began to sing a plaintive waiata sung at funerals on marae at home. He had told Molly he would do this to include those of his whanau, or extended family at home who had been war casualties. The last beautiful note faded, all of them caught up in the emotion of the moment. From the entrance to the players' tunnel, Jack lifted his bugle and those poignant, familiar notes of the Last Post rang out over Boleyn Field.

He did not remember very much at all about the rest of that night, except that his hangover was of epic proportions. He hazily recalled pouring Molly into a taxi and sending her home to the Bossman so that the Captain could retrieve her for whatever nefarious plans he had for her, post hangover.

Finally, the Internet played ball and there she was, on Skype, in East London, looking dreadful. Big black rings around her eyes, white as a sheet with a bilious green tinge, hair every which way. Fingers didn't think her current look would be an enticement to the Bossman today, but had the common sense not to say so.

"Jeez, Molly, you look fucking terrible! Good game was it? I heard the score on BBC news. Great stuff! Fancy beating Man U."

"Yeh, great game. Did you see who got the winning goal, though? It were our favourite Kiwi, weren't it? It weren't the game that did me in, but the after match. If I hear the Bubbles song one more time I think I'll go mad. And I'm not drinking again for at least a year. Me liver won't stand for it."

"Famous last words. Bullshit, Molls, you'll be back on it in a couple of days."

"Nah, can't. That were my farewell. No drinking where I'm gonna be this time next week. I'm off to Greece. Meeting Qaseem on an island called Lesbos."

 _This has gotten a bit long and unwieldy. Are there readers still out there interested in the goings on in Afghanistan? Or are current events in other parts of the world more important? Perhaps they are all interrelated. Please let me know what you think, so far._


	2. Chapter 2

TG and BOLEYN GROUND

CHAPTER 2

 _ **Note to OG Fanfiction Readers**_

This is not a real chapter, but a special acknowledgement of Tony Grounds. I did not thank him or the BBC when I posted the first chapter two days ago. Then, whilst browsing, I found pictures, video clips and comments from the man himself regarding this historic ground and its closure.

Once I did that, it was easy to see why he had chosen that location for the pivotal scene in Our Girl where Smurf dies and Molly's heart is broken. He is a massive Hammers fan, and of course he had to make Molly one as well. A great acknowledgement for his beloved club of which he is a lifelong supporter.

So thanks, even if it's a little late, Tony and the BBC, from another massive WHU fan, even though I live on the other side of the world. We just supplied you with a winning goal kicker.


End file.
